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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224989">Passing On</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee'>Merkwerkee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Void Jumpers (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Passing On, like they were already dead but now they get what comes next</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:09:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three Summoners were trapped for more than a thousand years to keep Slakta from destroying the Continuum. Three Summoners were set free when she was finished for good. Three Summoners get to go on to their final rewards.</p><p>It just so happens that one of the Summoners is Danny DeVito.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Passing On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tait had felt the Web release when Slakta had regained her physical form, its threads tearing and splintering under the weight of her Necromancy, but all three of them who had been the anchors for it were still just as trapped - this time, by Slakta herself. Her necromantic memory magic kept them on this side of Life just as surely as the Web had, and the only way they’d been going to truly be freed was if Slakta was defeated - a thing they hadn’t managed to do with five fully-fledged Summoners and three Parallels.</p><p>And somehow, this ragtag group of adventurers had managed to do what they couldn’t, and Tait felt a warm smile stretch itself across her face as she laid a rapidly-disintegrating hand on the spindly Wizard’s shoulder.</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you.”</em>
</p><p>If the Wizard had a reply, Tait didn’t hear it. Whatever threads of will and magic had been keeping her in the physical world collapsed like a house of cards in a high breeze. It was a breath of fresh air, a sweet release from a pain she’d had centuries to grow accustomed to as she left the physical plane behind. Ahead of her, she could see what came next, and - a familiar figure in a grey robe?</p><p>It hurt like a broken bone to stop short of her destination, but it had never been said of Tait that she lacked the willpower to do anything she put her mind to. The figure on her way to the destination anyway, and simply pausing here didn’t mean she couldn’t continue down the path afterward.</p><p>As she came within polite conversational range - if such terms could be applied here, in the place near what lay beyond - the figure spoke in a voice as familiar to Tait as her own pulse, and twice as beloved.</p><p>“A Parallel serves their Summoner, not the other way around. Whatever you require, I will assist you with.”</p><p>Tait felt like her heart would burst, if it still beat.</p><p><em>“Sylvia,”</em> she breathed, and swept the slighter woman up in a hug that would’ve broken bones.</p><p><em>“Tait,” </em>Sylvia replied breathlessly, and kissed her roundly.</p><p>It was a long time before the two of them broke apart; breathing wasn’t a problem when you were already dead, but you couldn’t ask or answer questions when your mouth was busy so in the end Tait was forced to end the kiss. She still didn’t let Sylvia out of the hug, though, and the smaller woman seemed perfectly content to remain where she was.</p><p>There was one important thing to say before she asked any questions, however, and Tait made sure to meet Sylvia’s eyes squarely as she spoke.</p><p>“I love you, and ah’m sorry for making you wait.”</p><p>Sylvia’s eyes crinkled in that way Tait found absurdly endearing. “I would have waited for longer. I always knew you’d make it back to me someday.”</p><p>Tait had to kiss her again for that, a quick peck on the lips that met smile with smile.</p><p>“How was Cal?”</p><p>Sylvia laughed. “He was a fine man who ended up with twin daughters - little hellions, both of them. You would have liked his wife, I think; she reminded me a little of you when her temper was up.”</p><p>The tone of Sylvia’s words was belied by the teasing look in her eyes, and Tait laughed like she hadn’t in centuries. Let Horace have his puns; she would take Sylvia’s dry wit any day, even at her own expense.</p><p>“How did you die?” She asked, more for her own curiosity than anything else. In the end, it didn’t matter how either of them died, only that they’d ended up here, together.</p><p>“Heart attack in my sleep. A quiet way to go, though earlier than I suspect Cal would have liked.” A quiet sorrow entered Sylvia’s eyes for a moment, and Tait gave her a squeeze. Neither of them had chosen when to leave their family behind, and yet they had anyway.</p><p>Tait suspected there was a little more to the story as well, but didn’t press. It didn’t matter. Not here, not now.</p><p>“How did you manage to wait?” She asked, looking at the area around them. It was alive with magic, the various elements twisting and turning about themselves in a dance that would have been stately if it hadn’t been conducted at breakneck speeds. She could feel it tugging at her core, urging her to what lay ahead. The area was liminal, and not meant to last; how had Sylvia managed it for all these years?</p><p>“I am <em>your </em>Parallel,” and even after all these centuries, the words still sent a possessive thrill shooting through Tait’s veins, “and what’s yours is mine. Your standing, your reputation, your will, your love. Mine, and <em>nobody </em>else’s, and not even death can change that.”</p><p>Tait couldn’t resist and kissed her once more, any further questions put aside. All that mattered was Sylvia, patient Sylvia, lovely Sylvia, indomitable Sylvia. Waiting in a liminal space meant to last between one heartbeat and the next for thousands of years for her Summoner.</p><p>When they broke apart again, Tait released her hug and held out an arm like she’d done so many times during her tenure as Summoner.</p><p>“Shall we?” She invited, and Sylvia laughed as she slid her hand around the proffered arm.</p><p>“We shall,” she declared, “together.”</p><p>And so they did.</p><hr/><p>Horace winked at the young Fire Summoner as the last of the bonds holding him to Life faded away.</p><p>She looked genuinely sad to see him go, but he couldn’t stay of his own accord any more than he could carry a tune in a bucket. It’d been Slakta’s magic keeping him, and with her final departure from this mortal coil the last of her magics were dissolving too. He could only hope that the twists and snarls she’d made in the magic of the planet itself - the mangling of magic she’d used to keep herself alive and empowered had turned Blight planet from an oddly comfortable fungal paradise into the dismal swamp-infested hellhole it’d become, or so he’d gathered from her memories - would straighten themselves out as well, now that she was gone.</p><p>But those concerns were beyond him now, as the last of his substance departed the mortal plane and moved - on.</p><p>There was a light ahead, and he moved towards it willingly. It was a warm light, and getting warmer as he approached - the good kind of warmth, the kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in centuries. Oh the Blight planet was a disgusting swamp, and make no mistake about it, but the temperature rarely got above tepid. It was the humidity that did you in Blight; you’d drown in a pool of your own sweat long before the temperature approached anything like what Horace would consider to be livable. He had been a Fire Summoner, born and raised on the Fire planet, and there’d been nothing like it on Blight. Too damp, too humid, too cool - he’d never realized exactly how cold he was, until he’d managed to get back to somewhere warm.</p><p>And getting warmer, as he approached the light. Tait would have complained and Danny would’ve doused them both in water, but neither of them were anywhere to be seen despite having been released by the same event. Wherever they were, he could only hope they had found their own light and the peace it seemed to be promising.</p><p>The closer he got, the more his heart sang with a feeling at once long-forgotten and terribly familiar. Horace had to smile as the Fire in his chest overflowed like a lava pool, spilling out over its boundaries to meet a magic it hadn’t known in centuries.</p><p>“Mear,” he said with a beatific smile on his face, and stepped forward into the light.</p><hr/><p>Danny grumbled to himself as he moved along. He knew exactly where he was headed, the light ahead of him as familiar as the back of his own hand, and he’d be damned if he was any later than he already was.</p><p>Moving up, he pushed open the door between him and the light, and stepped into the warmly-lit bar. The hanging lights with their little green shades swayed gently in the breeze from the door, and Danny slammed it closed behind him with a grunt. No point in letting all the warm out, that shit wasn’t cheap.</p><p>The lights twinkled off the various liquor bottles that stood haphazardly on the shelves behind the bar as he moved inside. NO MINORS one sign warned him as he moved past the old barstools and their mended-with-duct-tape cushions, WE CARD. Danny snorted as he took them in; he hadn’t been a minor in a very long time. He was more interested in the neon sign that proclaimed BEER; that’s what he really needed, after dealing with Slakta for centuries.</p><p>He went around behind the bar, noting that while the bar itself was totally empty at this time of day, someone had taken the trouble to dust before leaving last night. Surprising, considering that nobody tended to give a shit when the crud accumulated; more likely someone had spilled something and needed to clean it up. It would explain the tackier-than-usual floor, too. He’d have to talk to them about it when they got in, it was probably one hell of a story and he needed to know if anything needed replacing afterwards. Perks of being the owner, and all that.</p><p>Finding what he was looking for, he reached below the bar and pulled out a bottle of some shitty brand of beer. He frowned, but shrugged; he’d have to get one of the others to put in an order for his favorite, ASAP. Still, in times like these beer was beer and he expertly cracked open the bottle and took a swig. The bitter alcohol - real, in a way Slakta never quite managed in her death-magic fantasy world - ran down his throat with a welcome coolness, and he finished the bottle just as the door opened to admit four very familiar figures looking at him rather owl-eyed.</p><p>He waved the bottle at them. “Get the hell over here and sit your asses down.”</p><p>
  <em>“Have I got a story for you.”</em>
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